26. Henry
Henry
I can’t remember the last time I slept so well.
Sleep is kind of a problem for me, always has been. Whether it’s all those occasions where I’m up all night on a mission or plotting my next operation, there’s something about my body clock that will always kick in and disrupt my sleep on the rare times that I’m able to get a full eight hours.
But last night was different. Way different in fact. And now I’m up, awake, and not feeling anything like as sore as I might have expected.
The safehouse kitchenette smells of coffee and toast, the morning sun slanting through the blinds, casting stripes across the rickety table.
I’m sitting in a chair, my bandaged arm feeling way less stiff than it might have, but my body overall still aching from last night’s firefight.
But I know my body well, all it will take is a good coffee and some stretches and I’ll be fighting fit once more—well, that’s what I’m hoping.
There is one thing though. While physically I know I’ll be right as rain in no time, there’s a mental cloud over me.
Maybe it’s after the adrenalin surge from last night, but I’m feeling low.
It’s like there’s a weight on my shoulders that just won’t shift.
I don’t want to drag down Bodie’s mood, so I’m trying to hide it.
But this boy… he’s got a way of knowing when I’m down.
Bodie’s across from me, his hair glowing in the light, his romper swapped for one of my tees, the hem brushing his thighs.
He’s nibbling a slice of toast, Poot and Billy as always propped beside his plate, their googly eyes watching me like they know I’m carrying something heavy.
My coffee’s gone cold, my fingers tracing the mug’s rim, and I can’t shake the weight in my chest—not from Vince, not from the cartel, but from Hicks, my lost teammate, his death a wound that won’t fully heal.
Bodie’s blue eyes flick up, catching mine, reading me like an open book.
“Daddy, you’re all quiet,” Bodie says, his voice gentle, a hint of worry creasing his brow. “What’s wrong? Is it your arm?”
I shake my head, forcing a half-smile, but it doesn’t stick.
My Daddy side wants to shield him, keep him in that Little Space bubble where he’s safe, but he’s more than that—smart, empathetic, seeing through my walls.
I owe him the truth.
“Not my arm, darling boy,” I say, my voice low, rough. “Just… thinking about an old mission. You know, Hicks. No matter how hard I try, the pain’s still there, like a knife that I can’t pull out.”
Bodie pauses mid-bite, and he sets his toast down, leaning forward, his hands folding around Billy.
“Tell me, Daddy,” Bodie says, his tone soft but firm, no trace of judgment. “Tell me what happened to Hicks. All of it. The whole story.”
I exhale, scrubbing my scar, the memory of that jungle op flooding back.
“It’s heavy,” I start, my voice tight. “Me, Cole, Raze. Great squad on the ground, you’ve seen that for yourself.
Hicks was our chopper pilot, a vet who’d been there, done it, got the blood-splattered t-shirt it.
Job was supposed to be clean—in, out, gone.
We got the girl, made it to the extraction point, but the cartel hit us hard.
Blew Hicks and the chopper to hell. We trekked three days to safety, saved the girl, but Hicks…
I keep thinking I could’ve done something.
I’m supposed to be an expert, elite. You know?
Why didn’t we move faster, why didn’t I see the ambush coming?
But I didn’t. Hicks is gone, and I’m still here.
He’s left family behind. My heart breaks for them, truly. I…”
My voice cracks, and I look away, the guilt a fist in my gut. I’ve never said it out loud, not to Cole, not to Connor, but with Bodie, it spills, raw and real.
Bodie’s eyes don’t flinch, just hold mine, steady as a lighthouse.
“Daddy,” Bodie says, sliding his chair closer, his small hand covering mine, warm and sure.
“You didn’t kill Hicks. The cartel did. You saved that girl, helped to get the team out.
Hicks knew the risks, same as you. He’d be proud, I bet, knowing you finished the job.
” His voice softens, his Little side peeking through.
“You’re so strong, carrying this, but you don’t have to carry it alone.
I’m here. You’re a good Daddy, a good Guard, always trying to do right.
Forgive yourself, even just a little, for me?
And maybe one day it won’t feel so bad. Maybe one day you’ll see what an incredible man you are. ”
Bodie’s words hit like a wave, gentle but deep, washing over the guilt. He’s smart, seeing the man behind the gruff exterior, the Daddy behind the soldier, and his empathy—his pure heart—cracks something in me.
My feelings for Bodie, already fierce, grow stronger, irresistible.
I squeeze Bodie’s hand, my thumb brushing his knuckles.
“You’re too wise for your own good, Little One,” I say, my voice low and rumbling. “I’ll never fully let it go, but with you… I can see myself trying. You make me want to be better, Bodie.”
He beams, his Little side glowing, and leans over, kissing my cheek, his lips soft and quick.
“That’s my Daddy,” Bodie says, giggling, his eyes sparkling. “Now eat your toast before Billy steals it.”
The boy nudges his stuffy, making his sunglasses wobble, and I laugh, the weight lifting, not gone but lighter.
We finish breakfast, his chatter about surfboards and stuffie adventures filling the air, and I feel it—a shift.
Bodie’s not just my Little… he’s my anchor, grounding me in a way I never thought possible. I’ll always be a Night Ops Guard, but with him, I can be more .
And speaking of more… I owe him a promise.
“Ready for the beach, ninja surfer?” I ask, standing, my tone playful. “You’re surfing for me today, showing off that freedom of yours. And then…” I pause, smirking. “It’s my turn.”
His eyes widen, his toast dropping.
“You’re really gonna surf, Daddy?” Bodie squeals, bouncing in his seat, his Little side over the moon. “Like, for real-real?”
“Pinky swore, didn’t I?” I say, holding out my pinky. He hooks his with mine, grinning like he’s won the lottery, and my heart clenches. This boy—he’s everything.
“But what about your injuries?” Bodie asks.
“Ha! A couple of painkillers and some top secret Guard stretches and I’ll be ready to rock and roll,” I laugh.
“More like total wipeout!” Bodie squeals in delight, a look of pure mischief in his eyes.
I chuckle and put on a fresh pot of coffee.
If I’m going to hit the waves later and not make a total jackass of myself, I need to be caffeinated all the way to the moon and back…
The beach is a short walk, the sand warm under my boots, the ocean a glittering blue stretching to the horizon.
There’s something about seeing the beach through my surfer boy’s eyes that just makes it feel so much more appealing—even if I do somewhat feel like a condemned man walking to his watery fate…
Bodie’s in his wetsuit, his board tucked under his arm, Poot and Billy nestled in a tote by my side. The waves are gentle today, perfect for him to shine and for me to… well, not drown.
The boy bounds ahead, his surfer boy vibe radiant.
I set up on the shore, spreading a blanket, my gun tucked in my bag—just in case—but my focus is almost entirely on him.
I haven’t had any intel back regarding Vince yet, other than he was definitely picked up by the cops and taken to the nearby prison.
It won’t be long before he’s moved out of there to somewhere more secure, and from there on who knows what his fate might be.
But that’s not my problem, and thankfully not Bodie’s either.
I watch as he paddles out, his strokes smooth, his body one with the water. A wave rises, small but clean, and he pops up, his board slicing the face, his arms steady.
My surfer Little carves left, then right, his grin visible even from here, pure freedom in every move. My chest swells, pride and love mixing, his Little side and grownup side merging so fluidly. He rides the wave to shore, hopping off, whooping like a kid, and jogs to me, dripping and breathless.
“Did you see, Daddy?” Bodie chirps in delight, his eyes bright, his Little side bursting. “That was for you!”
“Damn right I saw,” I say, pulling him close, not caring about the wet. “My Little One’s a pro. Proud of you, Bodie.”
I kiss his forehead, his giggle vibrating against me, and he nudges my chest.
“Your turn, Daddy,” he says, smirking, his hands on his hips. “No chickening out. Poot and Billy are watching.”
I groan, but my Daddy side’s ready to keep my word.
Bodie picks a beginner board from his stash, handing it over with a mock-stern look.
“Baby waves, Daddy,” Bodie says. “You got this.”
The water’s cold, lapping my ankles as I wade in, the board awkward under my arm. All I can say is that I’m glad I did me stretches after breakfast. I’ve got a feeling I’m going to need them. Oh, and the extra painkiller was probably a wise move too.
Bodie’s beside me, coaching, his voice a mix of Little sass and surfer wisdom.
“Paddle hard, pop up quick, keep your knees bent,” he says, splashing me.
I growl, splashing back, his laugh echoing over the waves.
My first attempt’s a total disaster...
I paddle, catch a tiny wave, but my pop-up’s wobbly, and I wipe out, the board shooting out from under me.
Bodie’s cackling, swimming over, his eyes dancing.
“Not bad for a Night Ops guy,” Bodie teases. “Try again, Daddy.”
The second’s no better, another wipeout, my arm protesting, but his encouragement keeps me going.
“You’re close!” Bodie says, his Little side cheering.
Third try, I feel it—the wave’s rhythm, the board’s balance. I paddle, pop up, knees bent, and holy hell, I’m riding.
It’s a small wave, barely a ripple, but I glide, the ocean carrying me, Bodie’s whoops ringing in my ears.
I hop off near shore, grinning like a fool, adrenaline pumping.
“Hell yeah!” I shout, fist-pumping, the board bobbing beside me.
Bodie’s running through the shallows, his arms wide, and I catch him, spinning him in the waves, his laugh pure joy.
My heart’s full, bursting, and the words spill out, raw and true.
“I love you, Bodie,” I say, my voice rough, my eyes locked on his. “I love you, my darling Forever boy.”
Bodie’s breath catches, his blue eyes wide, shimmering with tears and happiness.
“I love you too, Daddy,” Bodie whispers, his voice small but fierce. “I love you my Forever Daddy.”
We kiss, right there in the waves, his lips soft and salty, his arms around my neck.
It’s not just a kiss—it’s a vow, a seal on everything we’ve built.
The ocean swirls around us, the world shrinking to just him, my Little One, my love.
I pull back, resting my forehead against his, his giggle bubbling up, and I know—this is my home now.
We wade to shore, hand in hand, his board and mine dragging behind.
Poot and Billy wait on the blanket, their eyes proud, and I pull Bodie close, my Daddy side complete.
Hicks’ ghost might always linger in my mind, but with Bodie, I can live with it, keep trying to do right.
Bodie is my reason to keep fighting and living my life in good times and bad. He’s my Forever Little, and as we sit watching the waves, I know we’ll face whatever comes—Guard life, surf lessons, all of it— together .